


Freeze

by WhatLocked



Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Hot Weather, Oh the pain!, Other, Slushies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-14
Updated: 2015-09-14
Packaged: 2018-04-20 18:22:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4797611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhatLocked/pseuds/WhatLocked
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the resulting outcome of when it is hot, John has a slushy and Sherlock has no notion of societal appropriateness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Freeze

**Author's Note:**

> This really is a silly piece of fluff, because I can't possibly do any more of my uni assignment without going crazy!
> 
> And as always, I own no-one!
> 
> NTW

~~~~~~~~~~

John checked his phone one more time. Still no new messages. Sherlock had messaged him almost an hour ago telling him to meet him at Regents Park, by the bridge near the duck pond. It was for a case. That was all the detail John got, so John, being as he always was, followed Sherlock’s, limited, instructions. Not that he was happy about it. It was the hottest summer day London had seen in over twenty three years, so leaving the house actually meant putting clothes on. That is how John now found himself waiting, during the hottest part of the day, outside in full sun, slowly sipping on a raspberry flavoured slushy that he had purchased, after forty five minutes of waiting, from a small vendor that had decided to make use of this disgusting weather and set up in a popular location selling icy goodness to those stupid enough to leave the air-conditioned comfort of their homes.

Just as John was taking another small sip of his drink and thinking that Sherlock was either a) not going to show up or b) observing John from some hiding spot to see how he fared standing out in this ridiculous heat, the sound of familiar feet came running up behind him. John turned just as a red cheeked, sweating and rather breathless detective came to a halt next to him, dressed in his usual attire, thankfully sans his massive black coat.

“Did he come past here?” Sherlock gasped, looking around.

“Who?” John asked, confused, “And why are running around in this heat anyway?”

Sherlock, apparently ignoring John’s questions eyed the cup in John’s hand. “Wonderful, John, just what I needed” he said smoothly plucking the green and yellow cup from John’s hand.

“Oi, Sherlock, Get your own” John groused, grabbing for his cup, but Sherlock was already taking a long, hard pull on the straw. “No, not so fast…”

Suddenly the paper cup fell to the ground, pink sugary icy slush splattering across the pavers.  “NNNNngggggaaaaagggghhhhh” was the only response that came out of Sherlock’s mouth, making him sound like a very old cat dying very slowly and very painfully, as he doubled over, his large hands squeezing his head at the temples.

“How did you not know that it was so cold?” John gasped as he choked back a surprised laugh. Sherlock, the world’s most observant man hadn’t realised in the whole 2.3 seconds he would have been holding the cup in his bare hands that its contents were below 0° Celcius. Really, how did he miss that?

A high pitched whine left the detective’s mouth as he tried to control his breathing to combat the searing pain that was currently shooting through the front of his head. “I was hot..it was cold…nnng… I just thought … oh my god make it stop.”

“Place your thumb to the roof of your mouth!” John laughed, grabbing Sherlock’s hand and guiding it to the detective’s mouth, where the younger man immediately pushed the pad of his thumb to the roof of his mouth and Johns quiet giggles turned into full on belly chuckles.

Even in pain, and with his thumb stuck in his mouth, Sherlock still managed to throw John one of his death glares, which to any other person would have been extremely intimidating. John honestly did try to stop laughing, but the best he could do was smother his chuckles behind his hand.

“What in the name of all that is good, was that” Sherlock glared at the ruined slushy as if it was something nasty, thumb still in his mouth, his spare hand leaning on his knee.

“You’ve never had a slushy?”

“Not that….that” and Sherlock’s hand frantically circled around his head, as his eyes closed while the pain slowly abated.

John bit his lip to stop the chuckle. Of course Sherlock had never experience something that most kids experienced, on multiple occasions, before they hit puberty.

“That, my good friend, was a brain freeze.”

“WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?” Sherlock yelled around his thumb, clearly frustrated by now and John was having a hard time keeping the laughter in. Naturally, Sherlock would be frustrated with anything that effected the functioning of his brain, even if only briefly.

“What you just experienced” John explained, carefully, as if he was talking to a young patient, “was a dramatic and sudden increase in blood flow through your brain’s anterior cerebral artery due to the intense cold of the slushy hitting your upper-plate too fast. AKA Brain Freeze.” It was always good when John knew something that Sherlock didn’t, especially when he could explain it away using medical references, rather than pop-culture references. It didn’t happen often, but when it did it did wonders for his self-esteem. “It’ll fade as soon as the artery is constricted again.”

Sherlock stayed bent over, one hand holding his weight on his knee, the other with the thumb still pushed into his mouth. “You can probably remove your thumb now” John said quietly, trying to hide the sound of smirk from his voice.

“What if it comes back” Sherlock murmured, not moving anything except his lips.

John schooled his features and tried to sound reassuring. “It won’t. You’ll be fine, I promise.” But his top lip kept twitching as it restrained itself to stay looking neutral.

Slowly Sherlock unfolded and carefully withdrew the appendage from his mouth. Taking a deep breath in Sherlock opened his mouth and ran his tongue along the roof of his mouth, back and forth. Happy that there was no more excruciating pain to be had he closed his mouth and looked to John.

“I forbid you to ever have one of those,” and his finger pointed, rather violently, in the direction of the spilled beverage on the ground, “in my presence ever again.”

This time John didn’t even try to hold in the laughter. “That’s what you get for stealing my drink. Next time, get your own.”

Again Sherlock looked down at the cup, giving it a small kick with the tip of his shoe.

“Is this a common medical condition, are there any lasting effects, have I just caused permanent damage to any part of my brain. How are they even allowed to sell this stuff. There needs to be a ban placed on this as soon as possible, I’m sure I can get Mycroft to get someone to sort it out…”

“Oh my god” John laughed, “Sherlock, stop, really it’s all fine.”

Again, Sherlock glared at John.

“How can you have never experienced this before, or seen someone else have one?” John asked, amused at how almost childlike Sherlock seemed as he experienced these things for the first time. John shouldn’t be shocked whenever he discovered how little Sherlock knew about simple childhood pleasures and experiences, but he always was, and it set something warm in his abdomen when he got to observe the detective finally discover these experiences.

“So it is a regular condition then?”

“Sherlock, it isn’t a condition. It is something that most kids experience, and some adults too, if they aren’t careful. Some people do it as a dare, you know, see how much you can drink before the pain gets too intense.”

Sherlock looked mortified. “People, do this to themselves, to their brains, on purpose.”

“Yeah, well, kids will be kids.”

“And, you are sure there is no permanent damage?”

“Sherlock, relax, like I said. Most kids suffer through this at least once in their life.”

“Yes, and look at how the rest of the population have turned out. How do I know that I haven’t just started my descent into the average idiotic unintelligence that plagues the average every day person?”

John studied Sherlock for a few brief seconds, weighing the words that just spewed from the genius' mouth. “Yeah, no, I think you’ll be fine.”

Sherlock eyed John for a few more seconds and must have taken the doctor at his word as he threw the spilled slushy one more glare and then started walking off in the direction of Baker Street.

With a final amused shake of his head John followed him, wondering what commonplace experience that mad man would experience next, hoping he would be there to witness it.

**Author's Note:**

> The thumb to the roof of the mouth works but I think it is more of a case of you are being distracted as the pain fades rather than the pressure physically abating the pain itself. Either way, Brain Freeze is the work of the Devil, I am sure!!


End file.
